


My Lady Sansa

by queensusan



Series: Death is Our God [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-07 16:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7721791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensusan/pseuds/queensusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the Death is Our God universe, this story explores the relationship between Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne and how it came to include Sansa Stark.  </p><p>This can probably be read as a standalone if you aren't interested in Sandor/Arya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. This will require a stretch of the imagination, yes, but I will attempt to make it as plausible as this pairing ever could be. We'll see how well I succeed. 
> 
> 2\. The timeline here is vague, but it definitely happens during Death is Our God, so while Arya is pregnant and they're waiting for Daenerys to bring her dragons and save their butts.
> 
> 3\. And finally, I'm going with how old the younger characters look in the TV show, so that means Podrick and Sansa are at least like 19-20ish. Much younger than that and real life me throws on the brakes, so we're going with that, okay? I really couldn't figure out how old Brienne is supposed to be. In the books she seems quite young (like 18) but Gwendoline Christie is 37, so???? Who knows how old she's supposed to be in the tv series. I prefer characters to be as close in age as possible though, so let's compromise and put Brienne at early-mid twenties

“Quiet!” Brienne said fretfully, even though Podrick made no noise as he slipped into the meager crack of doorway she allowed him. Brienne glanced out to make certain he hadn't been seen, then closed the door in relief. She turned and found Podrick smiling at her softly. The tension she'd held in her shoulders relaxed and she leaned against the door. She smiled back and then ducked her head a little bashfully. It was ridiculous to be shy after so long, but it had been weeks since Podrick had been able to visit her and in the interim she'd begun to forget what he felt like and how he made her feel like the woman she was under all her layers of armor.

“My lady,” Podrick said softly and stepped closer to her, waiting for her lead as he always had. Although it had been a long time since he'd truly been her squire, he still looked to her for guidance in almost all matters. She'd taught him what she knew, made him into a fighter, but to Podrick she would always be his mistress. When she reached out her ugly, calloused hand and laid it against his cheek he closed his eyes in apparent bliss and nuzzled against her palm. He pressed a kiss to the center and added a touch of his tongue, a suggestion of an intimacy that brought a flush to her cheeks.

“Help me remove my armor,” she said, her voice just a little too soft to be a command to a subordinate. 

Podrick's sweet smile blossomed into a grin and he went to her, his hands tender as he unfastened the metal that enveloped her body. As he worked he touched her, cautiously at first, as one might touch a half tamed animal, and then more boldly as bits of her fair skin were exposed to the warm, flickering candlelight.

When he had pulled her tunic over her head and bared her muscular torso at last, he dipped his head, letting his warm lips caress her flat breasts in a manner quite unfitting a squire.

Brienne inhaled sharply and undulated under Podrick's touch, pressing into his mouth when he latched onto a nipple. “Mmm, Pod,” she murmured quietly, conscious of the sleeping Sansa in the adjoining room but unable to hold back her moan of pleasure as Podrick flicked his tongue against her nipple, making her meager breasts feel heavy with sensitivity. “ _Yes,_ ” she whispered, when she wanted to scream. 

She knew she should stay silent- knew, even more, that she should have put aside whatever was between her and Podrick when she'd sworn herself to Sansa, but her baser instincts had always been her downfall. Since she'd first flowered she'd been plagued by a lustiness that had appalled her, a yearning that she'd been unable to fulfill, but it hadn't been until Podrick had taught her that her appetites were not only natural but desirable that she'd fully come into her own as a sexual being. There had never been anyone before or since that had made her feel the way Podrick did, for all his unassuming manner and unimpressive appearance.

“My lady,” Podrick whispered reverently and then he was falling to his knees with little care for his own comfort or the knees of his trousers. He pressed his face between her legs, nosing at her groin even through the layers of fabric that separated them. The sensation was muted but potent with possibility and Brienne put a hand to the back of Podrick's head to urge him closer until the boy (now most certainly a man, though Brienne still saw the soft seventeen year old who'd been foisted upon her every time she looked at him) had a mouthful of woven cotton.

He pulled back with a small chuckle at her impatience and then went about divesting her of her belt and trousers. When he'd pulled them down around her knees he dove back between her legs, his sinfully talented tongue delivering a bone chilling throb of lust that made her legs feel weak. She tried to spread her legs to give him better access, but she was hobbled by her trousers. She let her head thump back against the door in frustration and the sound was louder than she'd expected. 

They both froze, wide eyes locking on the door that joined Brienne's room with Sansa's, but after a few silent moments they relaxed.

It had been Brienne's choice to be placed so near her mistress, and being near enough to help Sansa should she ever need it in the night made it worth it, but it certainly made assignations with Podrick more difficult. He shared bunks with the other unwed men, of course, and the opportunities they'd both had to see each other privately had been too infrequent for either's taste.

“Let's move this to the bed,” Brienne whispered, knowing the soft mattress would muffle the sounds of their lovemaking.

“Yes, my lady,” Podrick said, the honorific sounding somehow indecent coming from his mouth. She shot his innocent face a suspicious glance as she stepped out of her boots and trousers and walked to the bed, unashamed of her nudity in front of Podrick, but he did not betray himself, and she knew she was safe. He might tease her, but his teasing was always gentle and kindhearted.

Brienne lay down on the bed and propped herself on an elbow so she could watch him, the corners of her mouth tilting up indulgently as he tugged off his boots and hopped around on one foot clumsily. She couldn't help but reflect how different she felt for Podrick than she had for the other men she'd loved in her life. She'd had such youthful passion for Renly and Jaime that her whole body and mind had burned with it. And yet when she'd touched herself at night when she was alone and hungry, thinking of them, all she'd been left with was regret and disgust.

Her love for Podrick had so little in common with Renly or Jaime it was almost laughable. It was a clear headed, steady love, the glowing embers in a hearth late at night rather than the roaring of a bonfire. It was a love that comforted her, fulfilled her and sustained her. He'd never be the great passion of her life, but she was mature enough to know that even if she'd been able to have the great passions of her life, they would never have been able to live up to her idealized versions of them. 

She'd never marry him, of course, though she knew he'd have been happy to give her his name, if she'd wanted it. She'd never bear his children or wear his cloak. But she could love him as best she could.

Podrick responded to the smile she was giving him by shucking off the rest of his clothes and hopping into bed with her. Their combined weight on the soft mattress made them roll to the center and Brienne put an arm out to hold her lover steady before reaching up to tenderly push his hair out of his beloved face.

Like a friendly puppy he leaned up to kiss her face, anywhere he could reach until she was fighting back giggles and pulling him on top of her. He'd have tirelessly pleasured her with his tongue and his fingers for hours, if she'd wanted it, but it had been too long since she'd felt him inside her. She didn't intend to let him go until she'd had her fill of him anyway, and he could have her again after the edge had been taken off their hunger.

“Pod,” she moaned, drawing him down between her legs and and wrapping him up in her embrace. She could feel his cock, thick and heavy, against her thigh. He was breathing heavily, even though the only stimulation he'd received was the sight of her unclothed body. It was a delicious affirmation of his desire for her and it made the muscles inside her clench, eager to be filled by him. He was whispering kisses along her neck, awaiting her lead, and she gave it to him, reaching down between their bodies to grasp his cock and align it with her cunt. 

With a whine of relief, Podrick thrust inside her, his girth parting the walls of her passage as smoothly as a ship cutting through water.

They both groaned with pleasure. For an average sized man, he had a cock that seemed to have been built just for a woman of Brienne's size, for he stretched her almost to the cusp of pain but not quite over it. 

This was Podrick's area of mastery and she let him set the pace, a long, slow rhythm that had his pubis bone grinding against her clit while his thick cock rubbed deep inside her. With a simple, happy smile, Podrick lifted one of her large hands and pushed her fore and middle finger into his mouth, sucking and wetting the digits until they dripped with his saliva. 

He withdrew her fingers with a slurp and nudged them down between her legs. “Touch yourself, Brienne,” he murmured, passion making him slip into the informality he only dared use when she was defenseless with pleasure. 

“Yes,” she moaned quietly and did not protest when Podrick bent her long legs in half so he could get on his heels and fuck her hard. He knew she could take rough handling- he knew she liked it. She rubbed her clit faster as the friction of his cock in her cunt made her lose all awareness of their surroundings. Her orgasm hit her like a clap of lightning, and she arched off the bed and screamed, her free hand flying out to crack against the headboard with a noise that in the quiet of the night had the same effect as two rocks crashing together.

They froze, chests heaving, but the damage had been done. From the other side of the wall that separated Sansa and Brienne's bedrooms came a thump and a clatter and before Podrick had even withdrawn from Brienne the door that adjoined the two rooms was flung open and Sansa flew in, her eyes wild and the jug from her washstand raised above her head.

Had the situation been different Brienne might have appreciated the bravery and selflessness of her charge, but as it was she could muster no other emotion than panic.

Podrick was still between her legs, still _inside her,_ and she shoved the boy away roughly. 

“Lady Sansa!” she cried and yanked the furs at the end of the bed up to cover her nudity, leaving Podrick alone and naked and looking like a hound that has piddled on the reeds. She didn't know what to say and could do no more than stare in absolute horror as Sansa's expression went from fierce to shocked.

“Brienne?” she asked, her eyes going back and forth between Podrick and her protector. The jug slowly lowered. “I- I thought someone was attacking you.” Her voice was small and confused, not the cool and authoritative tone she usually adopted. Brienne wondered, with shame, if the girl was thinking of Ramsay and the revolting things he'd done to her.

Her doubtful gaze slid between Podrick and Brienne, clearly finding the idea that Podrick would force anything on Brienne a difficult concept to absorb.

She didn't know what else to say. “No, my lady,” Brienne said helplessly and Sansa, her face suffusing with color, dropped the water jug and rushed back through the door that separated the room, her long nightdress streaming behind her. When she slammed the door behind her both Brienne and Podrick flinched.

“Go to her,” Podrick urged, pulling up an edge of Brienne's sheet to cover himself, rather belatedly.

“And say what?” Brienne snarled, taking out her anger against him and instantly regretting it. It hadn't been his fault that Sansa had awoken.

Brienne huddled under the furs, wondering if she _should_ chase after her mistress and explain- but what was there to explain? The secret she'd hid from Sansa for over a year was a secret no longer.

Podrick wasn't offended. Rather, he looked sad and sympathetic. 

“We haven't done anything wrong, my lady,” he told her soothingly as she trembled and bit her lip, trying to erase the expression of bewilderment on Sansa's face from her mind. “But Lady Sansa has been terribly hurt in the past and may not really understand that you willingly chose this. Go and explain. Comfort her.”

“Comfort her,” Brienne muttered, appalled, but having no better ideas herself, she hastily pulled her tunic and trousers back on. 

“Gods help me,” she whispered and then opened the door to Sansa's chamber and slipped inside the dark room.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sansa_

_Earlier that day._

Despite the war that loomed over their heads and the creeping threat of winter, Sansa increasingly found that she was happy, even though it had been so long since she'd been happy that at first she almost hadn't recognized the emotion. And yet Ramsay was many months in the grave, she was reunited with her living family members and she was back at Winterfell, where she belonged. Where all Starks belonged. Arya was pregnant and it seemed the Stark name would continue on without the burden of responsibility falling on Sansa.

And then there was Brienne.

Sansa sneaked a look at her protector in the gleaming metal mirror that had once been her mother's and Sansa had had placed at her own vanity. Brienne was frowning into a corner of Sansa's room as though her thoughts were far away. She was flushed from her recent exercise in the yard and when she swiped a hand through her blonde locks, a movement that was almost unconsciously graceful, Sansa sighed softly, feeling a tug of longing in the pit of her stomach that she didn't fully understand.

Brienne glanced over at her and Sansa hastily refocused her eyes on her reflection, fumbling with the little pots of cosmetics Petyr had given her when she'd wed Ramsay. She'd considered giving them away, but regardless of where they'd come from she'd kept them. Caring about her appearance felt like reconnecting with who she'd been before she'd left Winterfell, even if the cosmetics had been a courtly influence. 

She tapped the barest hint of pink rouge to her cheeks and admired the effect in the reflective metal, appreciating how the flush made her look less white and deadened. She set the pot aside to choose another cosmetic jar but her fingers slipped, making it fly from her grasp and hit the stones under her feet. When she turned in her chair to look for it she found that Brienne had anticipated her intent. 

She stepped to her side, her blue eyes scanning the floor while her fingers idly brushed against the soft fabric of the fine wool cloak Sansa had sewn and embroidered for her. Sansa had tried to not show particular favor when she'd made Brienne the third of the cloaks she intended to make for all the members of the Stark household, but she knew that Brienne's sigil was the most finely and beautifully embroidered of all her creations. She'd combined three different threads so that Brienne's direwolf would have the same shade of sapphire blue eyes as Brienne. She'd wondered many times since if Brienne had even noticed.

Brienne knelt by Sansa's side, her armor clinking, and retrieved the cosmetic pot from where it had rolled under her chair. So close Brienne smelled of fresh, clean sweat and snow, leftover from her morning practicing with Podrick. 

“My Lady,” Brienne said, rising largely to her feet and offering the jar to Sansa. Her voice was respectful and warm, as though she truly were a noble knight and not a lady herself of elevated social standing. 

Sansa reached up to take the jar, but was struck by a small cut on Brienne's palm approximately an inch long. It look red and new and Sansa daringly took the large hand into her own slender one.

“That's looks new,” she said a little breathlessly, for Brienne's hand was warm against her own chilled fingers and she couldn't help but imagine that hot touch against her neck or lips. “Did you get it at practice today?”

“Podrick managed to jam my sword against my hand and it pinched the flesh. Nothing serious, my lady,” Brienne said, her manner a little more forced than it had been before and her body locked and stiff as if she fought against her nature to keep from jerking her hand out of Sansa's. Sansa wondered if she were embarrassed by the juxtaposition of Sansa's soft, gently used hand against her own roughened one or if Sansa's behavior was arousing suspicion in Brienne. What would Brienne do if she knew the unnatural things Sansa imagined when she was near her? 

Sansa knew she should release the poor woman, but a dark, subversive part of her wanted to push Brienne. Instead she turned Brienne's hand in hers, examining the network of scars, some faded and white with age and some thick and puckered with shiny pink flesh. Some of Brienne's fingers were crooked and bulged from poorly healed breaks and her nails were dry and torn. The skin was rough with callouses and scars but all Sansa could think about was how the texture of her skin would feel against the more sensitive areas of Sansa's body. 

“Podrick must be getting better,” Sansa said, her tone warmer when she spoke of the boy that no one could help but be fond of.

“He improves daily,” Brienne said with obvious pride and relaxed enough to share a smile with Sansa. “We'll make a knight of him yet.” 

Something inside Sansa melted at the smile and she ducked her head and found herself bending over the hand and breathing a shuddering breath against the palm before pressing a kiss against the cut that lingered for slightly too long. And then, panicked at her own boldness, she released Brienne's hand and turned back to her cosmetics in confusion. She fumbled for the little pot of lip salve, her fingers shaking and her sex throbbing between her legs. In the mirror she caught a glimpse of her reflection and saw the way her cheeks were flushed with color that could not be attributed to rouge. 

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Brienne uncertainly step back to her position at the doorway.

“My mother did that,” Sansa said faintly from her seat. She was unnecessarily rearranging her little collection of jars and not looking at Brienne, even though her heart was beating so hard Brienne might have been able to hear it from across the room. 

Sansa closed her eyes. She was shaking with adrenaline. “When we cut ourselves. She said that love made wounds heal faster,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but whatever she waited for from Brienne, she waited in vain. Brienne said nothing in reply and after a while Sansa, her heart a little heavier than it had been, put her cosmetics away and took her sewing to the window to take advantage of the weak winter light.

**

That night Sansa lay in bed for long hours, turning restlessly and trying to think of anything other than Brienne. It was madness, this obsession with her guard that she'd developed in the past year. But no matter how many times she told herself that the evil people in her life had warped her beyond her own recognizing, had turned her into something unnatural and repugnant, when she thought of Brienne she didn't feel wrong. Brienne made her feel safe and alive, like maybe what had happened to her hadn't killed that part of her that still believed in the idealized love of knights. And for all that Brienne was not a knight, she'd never met another who upheld the oaths of knighthood more nobly than Brienne.

She stared at the dim glow of light under the door that separated their rooms and imagined getting up and going to Brienne. And yet every time her muscles tensed to move from the bed, she stopped herself. She wasn't even sure what she wanted. There had been whispers in court of many things shocking to Sansa- even of women who loved women, just as it had been rumored that Renly Baratheon had taken lovers of his own sex. And yet knowing such a thing was possible was so vastly different from conceptualizing the reality of it that Sansa would not have even been able to explain what she wanted from Brienne.

So she lay and listened, starting in her bed when a distant thump penetrated the thick walls, as though someone had knocked against a door. When she heard nothing more she relaxed back in bed and thought about what Brienne might be have done to make such a noise. She was deep in her imaginings of Brienne knocking an elbow or knee against the door as she struggled to remove her armor alone when a muffled scream followed by a louder thump pierced the air.

Sansa was stumbling out of the bed before she was even aware she was moving. She grappled in the dim light, her arms reaching out for what she didn't know until she crashed into her wash basin. On instinct her fingers wrapped around the handle of the heavy water jug. She paused for only a moment. She should scream for help; that was what ladies did. Ladies didn't burst into dangerous situations armed with crockery.

But then, what had failing to defend the ones she loved ever gotten her in life? Filled with a fury at the thought of beautiful, loyal Brienne in danger, Sansa stormed through the door and into Brienne's room, her water jug held high.

**

 _I dropped my water jug_ she thought in bewilderment, and had the sudden urge to return and retrieve it before reality wrapped its cold fingers around her throat again. She let out a dry, pained noise and walked to the end of her room and then back. She felt restless and frantic and had the inexplicable urge to tear out of her room and run through the halls, away from what she'd seen and away from herself. Arya certainly would have, had the impulse taken her, but Sansa was different. Little bird, Sandor Clegane had used to call her, but Sansa had never been able to fly away from anything. 

With a gasp of misery and loss Sansa curled her fingers in her hair and tugged and paced her room, trying to fight back her tears and think of _anything_ other than what she'd seen. But even with the greatest effort, she could not turn her mind to anything other than Brienne and Podrick wrapped in each other's arms. She shuddered and thought, stupidly, of how only today she'd come so close to admitting to Brienne her feelings. If she'd had even the slightest bit of encouragement she'd have turned to Brienne, not sure _what_ she wanted but very certain who she wanted it with.

Sansa had paced to the far side of the room when the door that separated the rooms opened and Brienne slipped through. When Brienne shut the door behind her the only light to illuminate the room was the soft, flickering light of the fire. Sansa wondered what she must look like in the weak light, if she could be seen at all? Could Brienne see the loss and desperation in her eyes? Did she look as wild as she felt?

Sansa didn't know what she would do if Brienne came near her or tried to touch her. She wanted to hurt her as Sansa was hurt and then to kiss her until their lips bled and she didn't know which desire was stronger.

Brienne's face was dim but so poignant with her distress. Her feet were bare and it was obvious that she'd flung her clothing back on with little care. The laces of her tunic were undone and it was shocking to see the barest hint of breasts beneath the loose fabric without armor to cover them.

Sansa choked on a gasp and turned away, facing the fire so she didn't have to see the evidence of some other's hands on Brienne. And there had been more than hands. She wondered if it would have been easier for her it had been anyone other than Podrick, for how could she hate Podrick? Podrick, who had saved her just as much as Brienne had. 

“My lady,” Brienne said unhappily and Sansa could hear her take a step nearer. “I- I deeply regret that you saw that. We were- shockingly indiscreet. There are no words to express my sincere apologies.”

Sansa said nothing, silently simmering with the passion of her emotions instead, as she had so often in her life.

“Pod- Podrick says it might be worth explaining, er, that we both chose to- to-” Brienne said, her discomfort so obvious that she seemed unable to even say the words. But she moved closer and Sansa could almost imagine that she could feel Brienne's warmth against her back, even hotter and more real than the fire in front of her. “That the act can be very enjoyable and that two consenting persons may choose to participate in- er, it, for- for, um, mutual enjoyment,” she finished with painful awkwardness. And then, as though it might make it better: “We're very fond of each other. He's a good lad.”

Something exploded inside of Sansa. If she'd only still had her water jug she would have hurled it against the wall and perhaps have found a better outlet for her fury. Instead she whirled around and raised an open hand to strike her guard. Instinct had Brienne moving before Sansa could land her blow. Sansa found her wrist caught by Brienne's big hand and when she lifted the other hand Brienne caught that wrist in the opposite hand. They stood locked together, both shocked by Sansa's violence.

And then Sansa was fighting like a wild thing. “You're _fond_ of him? You don't even love him?” she shrieked as she twisted and threw her weight back, pulling against a grip stronger than most men's. “How could you _waste_ yourself if he doesn't even love you? You deserve- you-” her words broke into a noise that was painful to hear. 

It could have been bearable if Brienne had been in love with her squire. Sansa could have nobly stepped aside for Brienne's happiness, but this was too much to bear. She'd been dignified and strong for so long. She'd endured so much and had so much taken away from her and Brienne had been the one thing she'd wanted for herself and allowed herself to believe she might be able to have.

“ _I_ love you, Brienne. I _love you,_ ” she whispered in defeat, the fight going out of her as quickly as it had taken over her body. She slumped back, Brienne's grip on her wrists the only thing keeping her from falling backwards. She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling, trying to make herself numb and unfeeling, her only defense when things around her moved catastrophically beyond her control. Life in King's Landing had taught her that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to be respectful of Sansa's past sexual trauma without dwelling on it. I wished for Sansa to take back control of her sexuality and so the topic is skimmed over. I hope it doesn't seem like I'm ignoring it, I just wanted this to be about Sansa, not Ramsay, y'know?

Sansa's hair was wild around her face and blazing red in the warm light of the fire. Her struggles had disheveled her nightdress, drawing the neckline down on one shoulder and exposing the curve of one plump breast as it heaved with Sansa's labored breaths.

She was so beautiful, even in her distress, and she _loved_ Brienne.

Before she could assure herself that Sansa must surely mean something else by her words, Brienne was looking at Sansa in a way that she'd never have dared to before. It wasn't the first time she'd looked at a woman in desire, but it was the first time the attraction had ever been returned. 

There had been a whore once who'd propositioned Brienne, believing her to be a man before she'd taken her helmet off. When she'd realized her mistake she'd grinned a cheeky gap toothed smile at Brienne and assured her the offer still stood. She had a been a young thing with beautiful hair and a face not yet pocked by disease and poverty, and Brienne had been tempted. She was small and delicate and the thought of taking the little woman and lying down with her in the privacy of a rented inn room had made heat blossom between her legs. She had no true idea of what she'd do with the girl, but the possibilities had excited her. 

But she had turned the woman away, shame and self disgust a stronger emotion than her lust. To be so revolting a woman that she must pay for companionship was too horrible for her to stomach. Better to want no one if no one wanted her. She hadn't forgotten the girl, though, and she'd shelved that one more regret along with the other lovers she thought she'd never have. 

Sansa's head was flopped back on her neck and her eyes had an unfocused quality to them that snapped Brienne's wandering attention back to her hands clasped around Sansa's wrists and the girl's limp body. 

“Sansa!” Brienne cried, gently lowering the girl to the fur rug in front of the fire and wondering if Sansa had fainted. Her eyes blinked slowly though and tears seeped from the corners and trickled into her thick auburn hair. When Brienne touched a hand to her cheek Sansa closed her eyes and shuddered. Brienne, not sure if she was hurting her or helping her, gently brushed her hair from her face.

Sansa said she loved her. But she must have misunderstood. How could someone like Sansa love someone like her? 

“My lady, you are distressed,” she said soothingly, knowing she must do something for Sansa but not sure what. Before she'd been the one who Sansa went to when she was troubled, and now that Brienne was the one to cause her mistress unhappiness she didn't know what to do. “Can I get you anything? Water? Wine? Would you like me to fetch your sister or your brother? Your maid?”

Sansa's eyes flew open, showing the most life she had since her furious outburst. Her hands flew out and she clasped Brienne's hands urgently. “Brienne, no! If you care for me even a little you must promise me you will not tell my brother or sister. They already pity me enough.” Her face crumpled again and she turned away, as though the sight of Brienne's face was painful to her. Her hands fell away from Brienne and she hugged her torso, as if to comfort herself. 

“Of course I care for you,” Brienne said helplessly, unable to express the devotion and adoration she felt when she looked at her mistress. She'd once told Podrick that all she'd ever wanted in life was to fight for a lord she believed in, but rather than a lord she'd found a lady who not only deserved her loyalty but desperately needed it. How could she explain that it fulfilled the deepest need in Brienne's soul to cherish Sansa and keep her from harm? And yes, if that wasn't love then she had no notion of what love was. But she could not believe, even with the evidence before her eyes, that Sansa could truly mean what she was saying.

Not sure what to do with her hands now that Sansa had dropped them she returned a hand back to Sansa's hair, stroking it back from her face rhythmically. “I swore to keep your council and I keep my oaths. There is nothing to pity. You're just overwrought and confused, my lady. Things will make sense again in the morning.” At least she hoped they would because it hurt her deeply to not be able to soothe all of Sansa's pains.

Sansa turned red rimmed eyes back to her, her gaze angry. “I'm not confused,” she snapped, struggling up to a sitting position and dislodging Brienne's hands. “I know my own mind. I'm allowed to want love,” she said defiantly. “Ramsay may have tried but he _didn't_ steal this from me.” 

Brienne was utterly out of her depth. Her hands hovered, wanting to touch her mistress and not sure if it was the right thing to do. She couldn't seem to shake the new awareness she had of Sansa. She might have served the girl for the rest of her life and never allowed herself to consider anything inappropriate, but now she could not help but think of how lovely Sansa was, from the sweep of her long auburn hair to the womanly curves her nightdress did nothing to conceal. She wondered how soft skin would feel under her fingers instead of the harder, rougher skin of Podrick? What sounds would Sansa make when she was being pleasured?

“But- how could you love me?” she asked plaintively. She looked down at herself, at the arms more muscular than most men's and her large, scarred hands. She avoided mirrors because she only had to look at the sneers on other's faces to know how hideous she was. Podrick's affections had given her some measure of self worth, but secretly she still considered him an oddity. “I'm the ugliest woman alive.”

“Oh, Brienne,” Sansa said, her face creasing with despair. “You have no idea, do you?” she asked and moved so she could reach out a tentative hand to Brienne's cheek. Her other hand rested on Brienne's muscular shoulder. “You're the chivalrous knight I always dreamed of when I was a girl,” she whispered, and then she was drawing close and Brienne no longer cared what was right and what she _should_ do. She was suffused with so much warmth by Sansa's words that she felt she might burst with it. 

Sensing a yielding in Brienne, Sansa hopefully but a hand to the back of Brienne's neck to draw her down so that she could press their lips together. It was breathless and awkward at first, all bumping noses and wrong angles, before they gained confidence. Sansa made little breathy noises against Brienne's mouth and when Brienne cautiously brought her arms up around Sansa's shoulders she responded so enthusiastically that Brienne felt bold enough to lower a hand to her fleshy bottom and draw the redhead into her lap.

Sansa moaned in gratification and pressed herself against Brienne, crushing her full breasts to Brienne's flat chest. Before Brienne could question the wisdom of the liberties she took she was reaching up and caressing the soft curve of flesh through the fabric of Sansa's nightdress. Sansa writhed like a cat at the attention and she arched into Brienne's hand so that her breast was fully cupped by Brienne's palm.

It was like nothing Brienne had felt before. Unlike Brienne, Sansa was lush and womanly and soft. The globe of her breast fit into Brienne's large hand as though it had been built just for this. 

Sansa was trembling violently and the hand she still held behind Brienne's neck clasped almost painfully. She'd stopped kissing Brienne and was instead breathing harshly against her mouth, shuddering, gasping breaths that stopped entirely when Brienne cautiously rubbed her thumb against the pert nipple.

Sansa moaned at the simple touch and Brienne was amazed and gloriously aroused by Sansa's responsiveness. She couldn't seem to sit still in Brienne's lap either. She was no longer perching on her legs but was instead straddling her lap, legs spread as wide as her nightdress would allow. She squirmed and undulated her hips and when Brienne lightly pinched her nipple Sansa sat down hard against one of Brienne's thick thighs and ground against it. 

“Oh, oh-” she gasped, clutching at Brienne. Brienne was certain she'd have bruises on her shoulder and on the back of her neck the next day but she couldn't care. “Please, Brienne, I- I don't-” Sansa shook her head in frustration, as if she didn't know what to beg for.

Brienne wondered, in amazement, if the girl had ever even had an orgasm. Was it possible Sansa had never touched herself? But then, hadn't Brienne herself felt like an aberration when she'd guiltily sneaked a hand between her legs as a young girl? And Sansa had certainly taken the rules of ladylike behavior more seriously than Brienne had.

Suddenly hungry to see Sansa gripped in the throes of pleasure, Brienne transferred the hand that held Sansa's breast to her ankle, just under the nightdress. She ran her hand up the bare leg but stopped at the knee. Sansa had frozen and her face had lost that lusty hunger and been replaced by weariness.

“May I touch you here, my lady?” Brienne asked breathlessly, stroking her fingers against the inner part of her knee to indicate her intentions. Her own loins were on fire with need and if Sansa told her no Brienne would have been happy to give a Sansa a demonstration of how to bring herself pleasure, if nothing else.

Sansa bit her lips but nodded slowly, her eyes intent on Brienne's face, as though having to bolster her confidence by reminding herself she was with someone she trusted. Brienne wondered if she were thinking of Ramsay, and resolved to give her mistress sweet memories instead.

Sansa's knees were spread wide over Brienne's lap, giving her ample access, but she kept her touches slow and cautious so as not to startle Sansa. While she supported Sansa's back with one arm she used the other to petted Sansa's inner thighs until the girl was senseless with arousal again, squirming and rocking her hips, her body instinctively performing the motions even if Sansa didn't yet know the dance. By the time Brienne's fingers brushed against the silky thatch of hair between her legs Sansa was so wet that the auburn strands were sticky with it.

“Brienne, _please,_ ” Sansa said urgently, obviously well past her doubts. Her eyes were wild and every inch of her milk white skin seemed to be flushed with blood.

Touching Sansa's clit from the reverse direction of touching her own was odd at first, but Sansa did not seem to notice any awkwardness. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed and her mouth was silently parted when Brienne gently stroked her thumb against the hood of her clit. The little bud of flesh was swollen and hot with blood and when Brienne put firmer, more focused attention on it Sansa shuddered all over and released the harsh breath she'd been holding. Her forehead was furrowed in concentration and her muscles were locked with tension and Brienne sensed it would take very little stimulation for her to reach her peak. 

Had Brienne been pleasuring herself she would have thrust fingers inside her passage, but she didn't want to overwhelm Sansa. Instead she kept a steady rhythm against her clit only and just curled her knuckle against her slippery entrance. She bobbed her knuckle gently into her, like knocking on a closed door, and put a little more pressure against her clit with her thumb. 

Sansa tipped her head back, the muscles in her neck tight with tension, and reached a hand up to grasp the hair at her own scalp hard. She'd released her grip on Brienne's neck but held her hand against it, her fingers curled into a tight fist. Her jaw was clenched and the desperate little noises she'd been making seemed to be locked behind her teeth. When she came uncoiled dramatically and Brienne knew she'd climaxed. Sansa's hips thrashed against Brienne's hand and her back arched. Her jaw unlocked and the most beautiful noises spilled form her mouth, cries of ecstasy that made Brienne's cunt clench in sympathy. Her head tipped back even more, lengthening her long, graceful neck as she unashamedly voiced her pleasure while Brienne continued to rub her clit through her orgasm.

After several glorious seconds Sansa jerked against Brienne's fingers and pushed away, her eyes wide. “Oh!” she gasped. 

Brienne grinned at her, feeling stunned at what she'd witnessed and half drunk with her own desire. “It gets sensitive,” she said hoarsely, “and you have to stop touching it.”

“I didn't want it to stop,” Sansa said, her face still open with amazement. “I didn't know it could be like that. I- oh-” she gave an all over shudder at the memory and slid off of Brienne's lap and onto the rug as though her loosened muscles we no longer capable of keeping her upright. She lay on the furs by Brienne's knees and lifted her nightdress so she could hesitantly press her own fingers between her legs, as if she'd never lingered on that hidden part of her before. “I can still feel it,” she said wonderingly. 

Sansa was a statuesque woman and her legs were long and graceful. Brienne imagined those long legs wrapped around Brienne's waist and that flame colored cunt pressed against her own and whimpered softly at the thought. Her own sex was pulsing liquidly with desire and she longed to be touched. And yet she hesitated, for while Sansa seemed to relish Brienne's touch, it was still impossible to imagine Sansa ever returning her desire. She seemed so above that, as though she were an idol made to be cherished and pleasured, but could not be lowered to return the favor.

But Sansa surprised her again, cutting her eyes over at where Brienne knelt by her side, her gaze hot.

“Brienne,” she whispered and reached out a cautious hand to touch her knee. “I would see you. I have-” she gave a shuddering sigh. “I have thought of you many times,” she confessed.

Brienne blushed brightly, her hand going to the neck of her tunic protectively. She knew she was hideous to behold and no matter how much she wished to, she could not imagine Sansa being pleased by the sight. “My lady,” she said heavily, her gaze averted with humiliation. “I am no beauty.”

Sansa scoffed, her eyes fiery. “What good has beauty ever done me? The most beautiful people I've ever known were also the cruelest,” she said harshly and then softened her tone, seeing Brienne's unhappy face. “ _You_ are pleasing to me.”

Red to the roots of her blonde hair but willing to do anything Sansa asked of her, even if she doubted she would live up to Sansa's expectations, she pulled off her tunic roughly, as one would pull out a splinter quickly to lessen the pain of it. With her eyes anywhere but on Sansa, Brienne rose to her feet and pushed her trousers down and stepped out of them so that she stood before her mistress, clothed only in her shame. She was painfully conscious of how large her body was and how masculine. Aside from the cleft between her legs and the barest swelling of breasts she could have easily passed for a man. Her limbs bulged with muscles and she was too lean to have developed the soft curves of other women. 

“Oh,” Sansa said softly and when Brienne dared to look at her she was astonished to find that Sansa was not staring at her with revulsion but rather rapt attention. She sat up so that she was kneeling at Brienne's feet, looking up at her. She very hesitantly reached out so that she could lay her hands against Brienne's narrow hips and her breath brushed against the thick thatch of pale hair between Brienne's legs, even though she seemed too shy to look at it.

“You're so strong,” Sansa said, her fingers caressing Brienne's hard muscles on her thighs and then her buttocks. “You could kill any of my enemies, couldn't you?”

Brienne let out a shuddering breath, her heart alive with passion. “Yes, my lady,” she said, for it was her greatest desire in life to serve and protect this woman.

Sansa rose to her feet and swept her nightgown off in a graceful motion. She was everything a woman should be and Brienne allowed herself to look her fill.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Sansa asked, her hands trailing up to grasp the bulk of Brienne's biceps. Brienne responded by gathering her soft body to her own strong one and sweeping her up into a kiss.


	4. Chapter 4

Later, after Brienne had brought Sansa to climax twice more and then touched herself while Sansa watched hungrily and stroked Brienne's thigh, Brienne lay on her side and watched her mistress sleep, simply marveling at her. It wasn't until Podrick came in and perched quietly on the edge of the bed that Brienne even remembered she'd left him behind in her room.

Both Sansa and Brienne were nude beneath the blankets of her bed and Podrick must surely have heard the sounds of their lovemaking. She watched him wearily, realizing that she hadn't once considered Podrick when she had taken Sansa into her arms, but Podrick was smiling, and showing none of the conflict she might have expected. When he looked at Sansa it was only with the deep affection and awe he always had. 

“She loves you, doesn't she?” he asked in a voice barely audible so as not to wake her.

Brienne gaped at him, suddenly suspicious. “Did you know?” she asked, voice quiet but rather piqued. Podrick might have confided in her if he had.

Podrick shrugged. “I wondered. It was the way she looked at you.”

Brienne shook her head in bewilderment. She had seen _nothing_ in Sansa's demeanor other than respect and affection.

“Do you-” she said uncertainly, guilt now eating away at the bubble of happiness she'd been floating on. “Do you mind?” 

Brienne had never made Podrick any promises, for her commitment to Sansa always came before all others. She had deliberately allowed him his freedom, should he wish to find a woman who would could give herself wholly to him. He might have even had other lovers at the castle, though she'd never asked. But she had certainly never considered the idea that _she_ might take other lovers and had thus never discussed it with Podrick before.

Podrick smiled sadly at her. “Does she wish to have you to herself?”

Brienne glanced back at Sansa. Although she still slept her mouth was curved up into the tiniest of smiles, as though the contentment she'd felt when she'd fallen asleep hadn't yet disappeared. She considered what it would be like to give Podrick up and felt saddened by the idea. She loved Podrick and would miss his touch and his loyalty and trust. 

“I don't know,” she admitted, and was forced to ask herself the difficult question of whether she'd been willing to give up Podrick for Sansa should it be asked of her.

Podrick leaned down and pressed a kiss to Brienne's lips, his touch lingering and soft. He touched her cheek gently. “You both deserve to be happy, my lady,” he said sadly, as though he were giving Brienne his blessing but only by his own sacrifice. Brienne's heart clenched and when Podrick drew away she half sat up to follow his touch, not wanting him to leave.

The night was growing late and soon the castle would awaken and Podrick would need to be back in his own bed. 

“Pod,” she whispered when he stood up to leave. He turned to her, his eyes hopeful. “I don't want this to end,” she said plaintively, feeling torn between the two people she valued most in the world.

Podrick looked at her closely, his eyes searching. Whatever he saw in her face he kept to himself, though he seemed satisfied. “I can love you both,” he declared, glancing at Sansa, and then dipping his head to Brienne. “Good night, my lady,” he said and left, leaving Brienne to wonder what he could possibly mean to do.

**

What Podrick meant to do became immediately clear to Brienne, even if she was unsure if Sansa knew what the boy was about. Simply put, Podrick began to woo Sansa.

He grew slightly more bold in the attention he paid to Sansa, so subtly at first that had Brienne not been looking for it she might have overlooked his intentions. Where before he had always been deeply respectful of the girl, almost to the point of reverent shyness, now he spoke quietly to her, asking her opinions and listening intently to what she said. Given an audience it was revealed that Sansa was deeply interested in the politics of the upcoming war and followed it all much more closely than Brienne had realized. It was Podrick, who was more quietly observant than he was given credit for, who gently teased out Sansa's confidence, encouraging her to voice her opinions where before she'd sat silently while the men of the castle made decisions that affected them all.

He took an interest in the things that Sansa was interested in, from helping her to choose colors for her embroidery to reading her the romantic poetry of knights and ladies that Sansa favored while she sewed in her room. He played with the children of the castle when Sansa visited them and when Brienne and Podrick practiced in the mornings and evenings and Sansa went to the balcony to watch them, he bowed to her respectfully, as though he were a knight accepting her favor before a joust.

It might have been manipulative in anyone else, but Podrick was simply too sincere for even the protective Brienne to find fault with his behavior. And besides, it was too aligned with what she herself wished to discourage him. Although Sansa had not forbidden Brienne from seeing Podrick, her shoulders grew tense and her lips tightened every time Brienne had broached the subject. Unwilling to hurt her mistress, Brienne had not agreed to see Podrick in her room in weeks. While lying with Sansa was incredibly fulfilling and Sansa had taken to sensuality with more joy than Brienne could ever have imagined, she still missed Podrick. He had been her first lover and no matter how much Sansa meant to her, a part of her heart belonged to him as well.

“I know what he's doing,” Sansa said with an indulgent smile one evening after Podrick had scampered off to fetch her more wine. The Great Hall was loud with the voices of hundreds and from their position at the end of the front table they could speak quietly and not be overheard.

Brienne looked over at her sharply, her eyes a question.

Sansa bit her lip, her smile falling. “You miss him, don't you?” she asked.

It was not in Brienne's nature to lie, but it was also not in her nature to deliberately hurt those who had won her loyalty. Not knowing what to say, she said nothing.

Seeing the conflict in her face, Sansa nodded sadly. “You were his first.”

Brienne felt helpless. She could see no way of pleasing both her lovers without hurting one. Never in her life could she have anticipated having the problem she was faced with now, not having ever been able to imagine one person in love with her, much less two.

“I've never promised Podrick anything,” she said carefully. “My first commitment will always be to you.”

Sansa brought down her hand sharply to the table, making a few people glance over at her curiously. She blushed but said under her breath, just loud enough for Brienne to hear and no one else: “But don't you see that isn't right? I do not want you because you are _obligated_ to love me! I want you to love me simply because you love me.”

Brienne hung her head unhappily. “I'm sorry, my lady. I _do_ love you.”

“But you also love Podrick,” Sansa finished for her.

Brienne was too miserable to respond.

“I told myself I would never allow a man to lay a hand on me again,” Sansa muttered, as though she were holding an internal argument with herself.

Podrick had not yet returned with Sansa's wine and Brienne almost wanted to keep him away, to protect him from disappointment. _I think he may be falling in love with you too,_ she wanted to tell Sansa. “I will tell him to cease his attentions,” she said instead. “I do not believe he meant any harm.”

Sansa looked at her, her eyes searching. “I do not know that I want him to stop,” she confessed and Brienne was too startled to speak. Podrick returned before Brienne could reply, and though she could see that he sensed the tension between them, he remained as pleasant and attentive as ever. 

When it was time for Podrick to go to the men's bunk, however, Sansa laid a hand on his arm, her gaze searching. Podrick looked back at her just as steadily, his face open and trusting.

“Would you ever hurt me, Podrick?” she asked.

Podrick responded by laying his warm hand on top of hers. Brienne was breathless as she watched them, her heart in her throat as events that would affect her life for perhaps many years to come unfolded before her.

“I would never hurt you, Lady Sansa.” Podrick said with simple sincerity and Sansa released a shaky breath. She looked to Brienne, seeking her guidance. 

And Brienne realized then that she was a selfish woman. She wanted them both. She nodded solemnly and a hesitant smile spread over Sansa's face.

“Will you stay with us tonight, Podrick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, it's time to get this cranked out. Not sure if anyone is actually reading this, but I'm turning into one of Those Authors who doesn't finish her WIP's. Can't have that. One more chapter to go.


	5. Chapter 5

Sansa was already in her bed when Brienne ushered Podrick into her room via the door that connected their rooms. Podrick had come to Brienne's room first, of course, for though it would not have done Brienne's reputation any good for him to be seen entering her room, it would do Sansa's standing as lady of the castle far worse.

Sansa's nightdress was buttoned up to her neckline and she had her blankets clutched around her breasts with one arm, but she didn't look apprehensive. Her breathing was quick and her color was high with obvious excitement.

Podrick hovered by the door, a shy, happy smile on his face. Brienne sat on the bed and touched Sansa's fingers where they clutched at the blankets. “My lady.” It seemed obvious that Sansa wanted this, but she could not allow any doubt to remain between them. “Are you sure you want this? It isn't too late to say no. We will respect your decision, whatever it is.”

Sansa looked from Brienne to Podrick and bit her lip. “I'm sure,” she said, her voice lacking the loftiness she usually affected. She cleared her voice and spoke more confidently. “But I do not want Podrick to touch me until I say that he may.”

Podrick stepped eagerly into the room, his face earnest. “Of course, my lady.”

The redhead smiled back at him, as if she could not resist his sweetness, and Brienne did not blame her. She had certainly not been able to resist the boy. “What I want,” she said, cutting her glance shyly over at Brienne. “Is to watch you.”

“Watch-” Brienne began, before comprehension took her breath away. “Oh,” she said, blushing. It was still difficult to believe that Sansa found her desirable, and the idea of being watched while Podrick pleasured her made her feel hot with embarrassment.

“What a wonderful idea,” Podrick said, suddenly very close behind her, making Brienne inhale sharply and look up at him. He put his hands on her shoulders and rolled the tension from them. When she'd relaxed into his touch he slipped a hand over her front, caressing her collar bone before dipping into the loose neckline of her tunic to cup the small swell of her bosom. 

Brienne sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. Sansa was proving to be an enthusiastic lover, but she always took Brienne's lead in sexual matters and rarely exhibited spontaneity, as though not yet confident in her abilities. It was a thrilling experience to let someone else take control, especially someone who'd made such a serious study of pleasing her.

She tipped her head back against Podrick's chest and tried to lose her self consciousness in the feeling of Podrick's warm, battle roughened hand kneading her breast and thumbing her nipple to hardness. Podrick ran his other hand lower, past the waistband of her trousers and down to cup her groin for only a moment's flash of warmth before his fingers were delving between her lips and rubbing at her clit. She shivered and rolled her hips, making both Brienne and Sansa gasp.

Brienne's eyes shot open, a little shocked that she'd been so taken out of the moment by Podricks fingers that she'd forgotten they had an audience. 

Sansa's had slithered an arm beneath her blankets and was touching herself, making the blankets shift subtly as her hand worked between her own legs. Her pale face was flushed with color and her half lidded eyes were trained on Podrick's hand between Brienne's legs.

Between Podrick's touch and Sansa's hot gaze, Brienne felt paralyzed by lust. She could not seem to do more than sit passively as Podrick ran his warm hands under her clothing. When he began to move and adjust her body so he could slip her loose clothing off she allowed it, letting him pull away her protective coverings and exposing her, too lost in her passion to be ashamed.

“May I remove my clothing?” Podrick asked Sansa respectfully and Sansa's eyes flicked away from Brienne reluctantly. 

“Oh,” Sansa breathed, as though she'd half forgotten how to speak. “I- yes, of course.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, and both women turned to watch him shuck off his vest and tunic and then lower his trousers. Sansa gasped at the sight of his erect cock, but when Brienne looked sharply over at her Sansa looked far from fearful.

Then Podrick was pushing Brienne back so that she lay beside Sansa and he was crawling between her legs.

“Pod-” Brienne began, not sure if she meant to stop or encourage him, but his mouth was between her legs before she could decide and then all she could do was throw her head back against Sansa's pillow and moan. 

Podrick had a wickedly clever tongue that had her insides quivering in moments. 

“Brienne,” Sansa murmured, rolling over so that she curled on her side beside the locked pair. Brienne tossed her head to face her mistress and Sansa pressed little nipping kisses against her mouth that required nothing of Brienne, for Podrick's licking tongue against her clit left her with nothing to give. Sansa's hand found Brienne's open palm and slipped inside so sweetly that Brienne sobbed with equal parts desperation and fulfillment. The thought that she could have the two people most precious in her world almost broke her heart with the fullness of it.

And then Podrick plunged a finger inside Brienne and she came, clutching hard at Sansa's hand and crying her pleasure into her mouth.

“Podrick,” Sansa whispered, almost before the throb of Brienne's pleasure had stopped rolling through her body. Sansa's voice was desperate and wrecked.

“My Lady,” Podrick said, moving from between Brienne's legs to lift a hesitant hand to Sansa. “May I touch you now?”

The blankets had fallen to Sansa's waist and her nightdress was disheveled and pooled around her waist. Her hair was wild and her cheeks flushed and she looked half ravished already, but she seemed to pull herself together with difficulty. “You may do- that,” she said with a blush. “What you did to Brienne. But not-”

She didn't seem able to say the rest, but Podrick clearly understood. “Yes, my lady. I'll never do anything you do not wish,” he said, reaching out to gently hold Sansa's elbows and extract her from the tangle of blankets. Brienne moved to the edge of the bed to give them room and was warmed by the boy's consideration when Podrick lay on his back between them, taking the least threatening position possible. “Like this, my lady,” he said gently, drawing the redhead near him. 

Sansa looked less tense and when Brienne put a questioning hand on the hem of her nightdress Sansa nodded and helped her pull the voluminous gown over her head. Both Podrick and Brienne sucked in an appreciative breath at Sansa's beautiful body. Brienne could see her sex, pink and swollen, peeking out between her legs and felt a little jealous that Podrick would be the one to taste her. And yet she loved both too much to be jealous for long, for what gave pleasure to them gave pleasure to her to see.

Podrick's face was warm with admiration and lust. “You're a sight to behold, my lady,” he said huskily and when he draw her near him Sansa did not resist. Brienne helped her to spread her legs around Podrick's shoulders and put a hand to her lower back to urge her down low enough for Podrick to reach. With a grin of pure happiness Podrick closed his eyes and leaned up to stroke his tongue through the engorged folds of Sansa's flesh.

Sansa shuddered bodily and moaned, dropping fully now onto Podrick's face. She turned her head to Brienne, a desperate, pleading look on her face, as though overwhelmed by the intensity of the feeling. 

“You're alright, Sansa,” Brienne murmured, and swung her long body behind Sansa's, straddling Podrick's lap so the she could wrap her arms around Sansa and help support her weight. Immediately Sansa melted back into her, her head falling back against the cradle of Brienne's shoulder while her hips twisted and writhed against Podrick's lapping tongue. When Brienne began to fondle Sansa's breasts the girl let out a low wail and bucked wildly, leaving no one in doubt that she'd found her peak. Sansa held still in Brienne's arms, her body straining, and huffed out her labored breaths for only a few moments before she leaned over and gripped both hands in Podrick's hair and began to undulate against his mouth again, this time with no reservations.

It was only when she heard Podrick begin to moan as well that she realized that the stimulation of watching Sansa's ride Podrick's face and the feel of the beautiful woman in her arms had unconsciously inspired Brienne to grind her groin down against Podrick's cock, rubbing her clit against his erection for her own selfish enjoyment. The decision to reach down and slide his length inside her was pure animal instinct.

Podrick jolted beneath them, and did something that made Sansa jerk as though electrified and left her cursing and giggling with apparent delight at her mild lewdness. It was such a joyful thing, to see a playful side to Sansa, that Brienne chuckled as well. Sansa, still smiling, rolled off of Podrick and fell bonelessly by his side, snuggling up to his shoulder and looking sleepily up to Brienne. 

“By the seven,” Podrick said blissfully from wet lips, smiling first back at Sansa and then at Brienne. He lifted his hands to her hips, encouraging her to ride his cock. Feeling only a little self conscious to be watched so closely by Podrick and Sansa, Brienne gripped his hands on her hips as well and did as he silently asked, setting a rolling rhythm that plunged his cock deep into the sheath of her flesh. It had been too long since she'd felt him inside her and she relished it, the slick slide of him in her wet passage and the feel of his tense muscles beneath her as he rocked his hips up to meet her thrusts. She loved the feel of his crisp pubic hair tickling her thighs and the way the head of his cock dragged against her insides so deliciously. 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sansa whisper something to Podrick and the boy grinned and nodded. At Sansa's obvious direction, Podrick tugged Brienne over, so that she was lying on the bed between them, and then he was crawling between her spread legs again. They both sucked in sharp breaths when he plunged back inside her, the angle allowing him to sink in fully now. Then Sansa, with a wicked smile, sneaked a long, elegant hand between their bodies so that she could touch Brienne's clit and Brienne's eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth fell open.

Podrick let himself go with Brienne, his gentleness with Sansa falling away like a cast aside garment, and slammed into her from above without reservation, grunting and huffing with exertion. Sansa was gasping softly beside her but she kept her rhythm on Brienne's clit constant, rubbing her clit and drawing her closer and closer to her climax. Brienne didn't know who to look at and so she just closed her eyes and let herself feel it all, the burning thrusts of Podrick's cock and the intoxicating swirl of Sansa's fingers. The feel of Sansa's sweet breath huffing against her ear and Podrick's groans reverberating through her chest.

She was so close that she could feel it, like magic gathering deep in her thighs and pelvis and rushing to her groin. She tried to hold it off, to last as long as Podrick, but she couldn't. She bucked up into her lovers' touches as it washed over her, obliterating every lingering doubt she had in her head and replacing them with a wash of white.

She came back to herself in time to witness Podrick throw back his head and groan in relief as he jerked his completion inside of her. She could feel his cock throbbing as he emptied himself, washing her cunt with his come. She knew Podrick had brought the makings of moon tea with him and so she allowed herself to love it, the wet, sloppy depravity of Podrick's cock spearing through his own seed as he gave a few last hard thrusts into her swollen cunt.

And then Podrick lowered himself down on top of her, heavy enough to be comforting but not enough to crush her. A panting Sansa curled an arm around them both, finding a place in between their bodies for herself and the three of them just breathed together as their heart rates slowed.

No one had to speak to express their love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to complete! School started and my muse always dies a hard death when work starts again. :( Anyway, hope it was worth the wait!


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